


To See the Light Amongst the Dark

by LadyGerbilLuna



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Physical Abuse, Piercings, Slow Burn, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-20 17:04:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9501383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGerbilLuna/pseuds/LadyGerbilLuna
Summary: Natasha and Tony grew up on the streets of Kirkwall. They may not be brother and sister by blood, but that's how they see each other. She was a killer rogue, he was a mage. When Meredith makes Tony tranquil, Natasha doesn't give up on finding a cure. When he truly is healed, that is when their lives really begin.





	1. Their True Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> So when I was rping with my friend, Chibs, I ended up naming a character Natasha... and then this came along. Why I like Natasha and Tony as siblings is a mystery. I have no plot in mind. I have no clue if to even continue this, but there is this. Their beginning.

She doesn't remember crying much, because when you live on the streets, there's no time to let tears blur your vision. 

They both grew up in the streets of Kirkwall, both alone, both merely children. He was a mage. She was a fighter. They weren't blood siblings, but that didn't matter, because they considered themselves brother and sister anyway. 

The problem with Kirkwall, as many people knew and didn't do a damn thing about it, was that it wasn't kind to Mages. And not just the whole 'we're going to throw you in the big Mage tower that you can't leave and watch you...all the time, you damn freaks,' kinda way. No, it was more along the lines of 'in addition to the above, we're going to beat the shit out of you and treat you lower than mud, give you no say whatsoever, and if you talk out, we'll make you Tranquil.' 

To be entirely fair, most of that came along when Meredith took over.

This, of course, didn't scare Anthony one bit. Nope. Okay, maybe a little. Especially after one brutal beating that nearly killed him, made him invent at the spur of the moment an enchantment that would make it so his heart didn't stop beating...that was another story...

Natasha herself had almost had a heart attack at that point. Who the bloody hell made an enchantment so quick that worked, anyway?

“I'm a genius,” he had replied in one of their rare meetings. She was good at sneaking in at that point, damned rogue, but she was doing her best to stay alive, as well as try and find some way to fight for mage rights that didn't end her up in jail. 

“If you were a genius,” she had hissed, “you wouldn't have provoked them in the first place.”

He had shrugged his shoulders, a small sheepish grin on his face. She smacked him on the head, then held him close. Natasha held back her tears, realizing how close he had been to dying. 

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, holding on just as tight. “I'm sorry, and you're right.”

But what could they do in a world that hated and feared mages other than fight as hard as they could?

In the last year of Meredith's reign, they made Anthony Tranquil. Natasha had then cried, with all the snot and breathless gasps, holding the blank slate that had been her brother. 

This didn't make her give up. Oh no. She just fought harder, fought dirtier. Black Widow, they called her, because she was silent, deadly, and beautiful. In between the fighting and the simmering anger, she watched and studied, and looked for some way to bring back her brother. 

And then it did come. Natasha didn't think twice. When she watched his eyes widen, when the tears began to trickle down his cheeks, that's when she cried again, because she knew that she had her brother back, her egotistical, sarcastic, genius brother. They were both nearly hysterical, years of pain and traveling, fighting and broken paths, lost hopes, catching up within seconds of realization. She knew some people watched them, that anyone could stick a knife in their back. Only whispers and the sniffles of a few others surrounded them. 

And that was truly when their lives began.


	2. In the Herald's Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Tony go to the Herald's Rest, and are confronted by the Iron Bull, where some of their story is brought to light.

They sat huddled in a tent, not quite ready to face anyone. Natasha had been surprised at the reaction of those around them, a few moved to tears, some brave enough to ask if they needed anything. She never quite saw so many people interested in helping before, and perhaps that was the power of the Inquistor. 

Or perhaps that was the power of her glare, something that she couldn't really perform properly with her eyes blurred with tears. 

After talking for a while about emotions lost to years of Tranquility, they sat in silence, still hugging each other as they did in the streets of Kirkwall, huddled for warmth. 

“You should have left me, 'Tasha,” said Tony again. “How many times did we get in trouble because you wouldn't leave me?”

Natasha turned her glare on her brother. The unfortunate effect of growing up together was that Anthony usually brushed off her reactions. “You know, it never ceases to amaze me all the lovely bullshit that comes out of your mouth.”

“Okay, that's totally uncalled for.”

Before she lost her temper, she said, “Do you want to go visit this...Herald's Rest for some food? I know there's probably a lot of people there...”

“Might as well crash the party. I mean, yeah, it's a bit...overwhelming, but we might also be dead soon.”

“That's....true.”

“See? Not everything I say is bullshit. Just about half, give or take.”

She rolled her eyes as she helped him to stand. “Are you going to be okay with...all the stuff?”

“Stuff?” he asked, touching his chest. 

She nodded, and then touched her forehead. Tony rubbed the sunburst on his forehead, frowning, then sighed. 

“Not much I can do about that, 'Tasha. Maybe one day. Let's go eat. I'm hungry.”

They walked in silence, Natasha looking around her to make sure nobody got ideas, Tony probably lost in ideas of contraptions or runes that he could work on. The merriment in the Herald's Rest only dipped for a second at the presence of the strangers. They said hello to only those who said it first, keeping to themselves. At least that was their plan, until the Chargers seemed to swarm around them. Natasha eyed them, holding her fork as if ready to stab something.

“Now now,” said one of them, a short-haired blonde man said, leathers dyed purple and black. “I promise we don't bite.”

“Speak for yourself, Hawkeye,” said another, and Natasha tilted her head. “Cremisius Aclassi, also called Krem, at your service.”

“Be nice, Chargers,” said the very large Quanari. “I'm The Iron Bull, and these are my Chargers. We heard what happened to you guys, and thought we'd say hello.”

Natasha and Tony looked at each other. Both of them were thinking that it sounded like bullshit, that the Iron Bull didn't just want to say hello. On the other hand, they made no show of hiding their presense, either. That put Natasha only mildly at ease, even as they were introduced to the group. They introduced themselves.

“I want a nickname,” added Anthony. “Something flashy, too. Like Iron Man or something.”

“Can't steal my ideas, kid,” said Bull, taking a large swig of his ale. 

“Why? I could be like your...mini-me or something.”

Bull's eyebrow rose, his lips tilting upwards just a little. “Oh, you can, can you?”

And Natasha could hear that ineuendo a mile away. She stood up just a little, and leaned forward. The table grew quiet, and Bull's eyes turned towards her. 

“Touch him, and I'll cut off your cock faster than you can say 'fuck,'” she said, her eyes not leaving his for a second. There were a few intake of breaths. 

“'Tasha...” said Tony, reaching up for her arm. To be honest, he was somewhat flattered at Bull's interest, and very scared. Sure, he had played in the Circle a bit, before Meredith came along and sucked the life out of all of them, but Bull looked like he could snap his neck in two without effort. Not that Tony couldn't flambe him, but not so soon after getting his powers back. 

And here was his sis, threatening people for him. He felt as weak as a newborn.

Bull leaned back in his chair, relaxed, his smile growing. “You've got backbone. I like that in a woman, Widow. I also like redheads.”

Like a cat, Tony hissed, glaring at the large Qunari.

“Maker, are you two lovers or something?” asked Krem, snickering just a little. 

“We're siblings,” said Natasha, sitting down, eyes narrowed. So Bull knew who she was...

“You don't look like siblings,” said Hawkeye. 

“We're not,” replied Anthony. “We grew up together, so we adopted each other. We have each other's backs. No matter what. ”

Tony expected someone to comment on this, not Dalish leaning forward and saying, “What's on your chest?”

He closed his eyes, even as Natasha put a hand on his arm and squeezed it. 'Well, might as well go down in a blaze of glory,' he thought, as he unlaced his shirt.

“Nobody said we wanted to see your...”

And this time there was no mistaking the dip in voices. 

“Sweet Maker,” whispered Hawkeye.

Oh, he knew how his chest looked. Runes, carved into his chest, piercings with small runes surrounding the large one that he himself had done.

“Fuck,” said Iron Bull. “What the fuck is it?”

Tony let the tunic go, relacing them with shaking hands. “Once, in the Gallows, some Templars didn't like the way I talked, so they got creative.” He laughed, but it was bitter. “I've never exactly been in the tip top shape. I have a tendency to get distracted by ideas, so...I almost died.”

“But you didn't,” said Natasha.

“I didn't. I carved a rune into me, to save myself, because I didn't want to die.” He shrugged, as if what had happened was completely normal. “I had some help, really. Another mage helped me with the idea, before those sadists killed him. I just added some stuff to make it work better...the runes around the main one...using metal and inks for the main rune...”

He figured he should stop. He was fairly sure he heard someone retch. Natasha took his hand and squeezed. 

Everyone at the table took a large gulp of ale. Tony finally had the courage to look up. He didn't look directly at anyone, but past them.

In the corner, staring at him with sharp blue eyes, a man with sunflower hair sat. No doubt, a warrior, with those broad shoulders and height. He sat stiffly in his chair, as if he couldn't relax. Was he a former templar, Tony wondered. And then, to his utter surprise, the stranger gave him a small smile, before standing up, and practiclly marching out the door.

“One of Cullen's men,” said Bull, who Tony now realized had been watching him, too.

“Cullen,” Natasha spat out.

“He was one of the better ones,” mentioned Tony, “even if he hated our guts.” He stiffled a yawn.

“Let's call it an evening,” said Natasha. “It's been...”

“Interesting,” Bull completed. 

“Weird,” said Hawkeye, grinning.

“It's always weird,” said Krem. “If it wasn't weird, we'd get bored.”

Natasha shook her head, helping Tony up and out, and ignoring everyone else. She had wanted a quiet evening, not this drama, but at least the news would now pass through, and they'd get it over with.

“Nice to meet you, Nat,” said Hawkeye, with a smile.

“It's Natasha,” she replied.

A few of the Chargers snickered. 

As they made it to the door, Bull called out, “His name's Steven, Anthony.”

“Steven,” said Tony, a smile on his face. “Huh.”


	3. Spirts, Demons, and Solas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has a nightmare, is helped by his good friends Justice and Compassion, and meets Solas

One thing that Tony didn't miss about being a mage were the lovelies he attracted when he slept. One demon that latched onto him like a damned leech, always loved to torment him with his worst fears since childhood. 

He hovered in the air, above the ruins of buildings that looked like they could touch the sky, people he knew lay on the ground, dead or dying.

“You did this,” whispered the dark-haired demon. “You destroyed them, killed them. Selfish human...”

“No, I didn't,” Tony replied, but his eyes could not look away from the bodies below him, people he knew, people he just met. 

“Maybe not today, but tomorrow? The next day? Now, what was the name of that lovely girl, who you burned the first time you tried to make a rune...?”

“Pepper,” he mumbled. 

“Oh, that's right. Poor thing couldn't hold a staff for a week, I remember.”

Perhaps because he had only reawakened, but the words seem to stab into him even more than usual. He hadn't had these thoughts in so long. He hated this part of being a mage.

However, the good part of being a mage was also being able to communicate with spirits, and just like the damned Fear demon, Tony also attracted a few spirits with him. One spirit of Justice, decided it was high time to be reintroduced, and punched the demon in the face. 

“Anthony!” boomed the spirit. “It is good to see you again!”

“Uh, it's good to see you, too?” he replied, even as the other two began to fight. A hand on his shoulder made him flinch, but he quickly relaxed, realizing that his Compassion spirit had also returned. 

“You'll be all right, sir,” said Compassion. Always proper, like a butler in a large mansion, or a kind man who gave little street urchins, him and 'Tasha, sweets, before he disapppered forever. “Just take a few deep breaths.”

“He does have a point, though,” said Tony, watching the other two squabble. “Sometimes my experiments do get out of hand.”

“Yes, sir, of course.”

“But only with risks, will change come.”

Tony did not recognize this voice, and he immediately tensed. Compassion squeezed his shoulder, but didn't move. The elf that approached him was entirely bald, no tattoos, so not Dalish, and wore the simpliest of clothes. Something made Tony uneasy. He could sense something on the very edges of his mind. Not a demon, he could tell, but something else. A well of power that just skirted the edges of his mind, but not malevolent, either. Oh good...a mystery in a conundrum; just what he always wanted. 

“My name is Solas. I apologize for entering your dream. I was merely walking the Fade when I felt your pain.”

A Fade Walker! Tony had heard about them, but had never met one. He knew that he was safe, because his spirits were not defending him from this person, but Compassion still stood close. 

“It's a pleasure to meet you, too, Solas. You are...a member of the Inquisition? Everything's a bit...”

“Overwhelming?” replied the elf. The landscape changed, the buildings disappearing, the bodies gone. They were now near a lake with a few weeping willows and trees nearby. The softest of breezes caressed the leaves and grass, and the full moon reflected on the water. Justice stood nearby, hammer in hand, but overall, appeared relaxed. Compassion looked into the water.

“This is nice,” said Tony. 

“I find it a place that soothes me, though for others, not as much. The Inquisitor prefers to walk around, rather than sit.”

“I'm usually that person, but after seeing... I'm okay just sitting for now. So, you are part of the Inquisiton.”

Solas nodded. “I was one of the first to find the Inquisitor, and have helped him since the beginning of this war.”

“Will you tell me about what's happened? I've obviously heard some of it, clouded by the lack of emotions and all, but I'd like to know more.”

The elf hesitated. “Yes, I will tell you, but not here. I think what you really need is time to heal. Close your eyes.”

Tony whined, like a small puppy chastised by the mother, but obediantly did as told. He could still feel the breeze, smell of water and grass, hear the soft voices of Justice, Solas, and Compassion, speaking in Elvhen, if he knew his languages...

Like a blanket, he was wrapped in warmth and calm...

He woke up to the feel of fingers running through his hair. 

“Mph,” he said.

“Mm,” hummed Natasha. 

He considered for two seconds actually moving, and decided against it. “You sleep?” 

“Yes, I slept. You were crying in the middle of the night, but eventually you calmed down. The healers were concerned for a bit.”

Of course they were. A reawakened mage having a nightmare could reign havoc without awareness. With a sigh, he pushed himself up. 

“Word of your runes has spread,” Natasha said. She watched carefully as Tony forced his body to relax. “Someone came by earlier, wanting to talk to you. Her name's Dagna. I think she's like you.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Like me? Like she has runes etched on her?”

“No. Cute and crazy, and prone to blowing things up.”

Normally, he would laugh the comment off, but what he saw last night made him flinch just a little. He knew that there was no hiding that from his sister, so he didn't bother to really try.

“Demons again?” she asked. He didn't always tell her what he saw, but often she could figure it out. In a way, they had the same fears. 

“Yeah. Back like a bad rash. At least Justice and Compassion are back, too. Also, I met a member of the Inquisition. His name's Solas. He seems....”

He hesistated. Nice wasn't exactly the word he would use. Solas could be nice, but that power he had felt...

“Complex?” he finally finished with a shrug. 

Natasha sighed. “Story of our lives.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, my brain decided that Thor as Justice, Loki as Fear, and Jarvis as Compassion makes some sort of sense.  
> On a completely random note, the Inquisitor in this fic is an elf that is neither male, nor female, but both. There may be Solas/Inquisitor. I don't know yet. I did mention I have no clue where this is going, right? Except that Dagna and Tony may end up blowing things up.


	4. Joining the Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Natasha go to the Undercroft, and meet new people, and confront an old aquaintance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I removed some of my comments (and hopefully not anyone else). This does not mean I do not appreciate the reviews, just that my comments are rather boring, and I would much rather show the real number of reviews. Edit: And I will rewrite comments at the end of the fix, whenever that is  
> Thank you to everyone who is enjoying this, and thank you so much for the comments! I promise that I read each one, and smile! 
> 
> The Vallaslin is the simple version of Sylaise.

It was easy to find their way to the Undercroft, mostly because people were very forthcoming in information. It threw Natasha off. In Kirkwall, they had been street urchins. True, Tony was brilliant, even when thrown into the jail known as the circle, and she had a knack for fighting, but to trust so easily? 

Tony seemed a bit uneasy as well, but whether that was because of the mark on his forehead, or because of the runes he revealed, that remained to be seen. 

Near the door stood a large Qunari, not quite as tall as the Iron Bull, but certainly as muscular as him. Green tattoos covered his arms, though what they meant, Natasha didn't know. His face was marked with vitaar, also mostly green with some white. 

“Ah, hello,” he said. “Are you going to the Undercroft? It's right down here.”

“Hello?” replied Tony, a bit uncertain. This Qunari certainly didn't talk like any others she had ever met. 

“Forgive me. My given name is Adaar, but many call me The Hulk. I was going to be on security duty at the Conclave, but I had a bit of a mishap. Lucky of me, really, but I felt that since I survived, I should join in the fight with the Inquisitor. You two are new?”

“You're...kinda weird,” Tony said, tilting his head to the side. 

“Tony!” snapped Natasha. “Be nice.”

“It's all right,” said Adaar, a small smile on his face. “I'm rather used to it. I'm not like a lot of Qunari you've met because I was never a part of the Qun.”

“It's nice to meet someone polite,” said Natasha, giving Tony a glare. “You're more like...a Bruce, or something, not a Hulk.”

“Bruce?” said the Qunari, with a small laugh. “I kind of like that.”

“Bruce it is, then!” grinned Tony. “Were you going to the Undercroft, too? I guess this Dagna person wanted to talk to me.”

“Yes! I'm a mage, so I wished to talk to her about some runes.”

“You're a mage?” asked Natasha, eyes now wide.

“Who's being rude now?” drawled Tony, which earned him a stomp on his foot. Natasha, red in face, apologized. 

Adaar, renamed Bruce to Natasha, laughed. “Don't worry. I know I look like a brawler. And I do brawl if I have to. Sometimes it's just better that way. But yes, I'm a mage, too.”

“Let's go, then!”

The three of them entered together, then just stopped, because really, the view...Natasha could only thing 'breathtaking.'

“If only I could fly,” said Tony. 

The sound of a hammer brought them back, and they walked down. 

“Oh! Visitors!” said the dwarf, clapping her hands together. “Hi!”

The other person, hammering away at a knife, merely grunted in what could have been a greeting. Natasha immediately liked him. 

“I'm Dagna,” said the small dwarf. “This grump is Harritt, and he works on all the basic,” this earned a scoff, “armour and weapons, and I deal with the weirder stuff. Did you need something made? Something looked at?”

She was...exuberant, Natasha admitted. Cute, in a hyperactive puppy sort of way. 

“You wanted to see me,” said Tony, when neither Natasha or Bruce said a word. “About the runes on my chest.”

“Oh! It's you!” she said, and her eyes seemed to sparkle more. “I heard you had a bunch on you from a fight or something, and I was so hoping I could see it. Can I see it, please? I promise I won't touch.”

“Good luck,” mumbled Harritt. Bruce politely tried to hide his snicker. Natasha did not.

Tony gave them a look, but took off his tunic. Immediately, the dwarf began to babble about the runes, and though Natasha didn't really understand much about what she said, Tony did, and so did Bruce. She watched, bemused, as they threw ideas around. 

The door to the Undercroft opened. Four people came in, but her eyes only focused on one.

“Oy! That's not yours!” she vaguely heard Harritt say, but she really didn't care who the knife belonged to; she moved to stand in front of Tony.

“Peace, Natasha,” said Cullen, raising his hands, palms forward.

“'Lo, Cullen,” said Tony, moving just enough so he could look at the others. “You know I didn't blow anything up yet. No need to take me in.”

“Anthony,” said the Commander. “I'm not here to arrest you. I'm here to...” He shook his head, and sighed. “I did say this might not end well, Cassandra.”

The woman, apparently a warrior as well, crossed her arms. Natasha kept an eye on her as well, but still focused mostly on Cullen. “Fix it, Cullen. Isn't this what you do?”

“You can't fix the shit that happened in Kirkwall,” said Natasha. 

“No, I can't,” admitted Cullen. “As I've said before, I can't take back those I've hurt, nor can I undo the injustice I let slid by, but I can apologize for my shortcomings, and I can try to do better. I'm sorry.”

Natasha and Tony looked at each other.

“I know you supported Hawke against Meredith,” said Tony. “Is it true...that you went after the Templars that beat me up?”

“I did,” said Cullen, just a bit hesitantly. Natasha wasn't sure how to handle the fact that this man was so willing to admit his sins, and yet anything good... 

“To be fair, you weren't the worst Templar there.”

Cullen sighed again. “Nor was I the best there. And I no longer consider myself a Templar.”

Natasha lowered the knife, but didn't let go. 

“I think we have all made mistakes to atone for,” said one of the elves, his soft tenor drawing their focus, hands firmly clasped behind his back. His hair was a dark reddish brow caressing his shoulder, and hazel eyes studied them both. His vallaslin was just a few shades lighter than his skin. He wasn't carrying any weapons, but Natasha wasn't certain what he would wield. She thought maybe he had a knife in a sleeve...

And then he moved his hands. One hand glowed. They were both staring at it, before they both noticed him smiling.

“I apologize,” Natasha said, when she finally pulled her eyes away from the hand. She was usually far better at her scrutiny, and here she was, studying him like some sort of puzzle to solve. Hadn't she already heard of the Herald and his ability to close rifts? But still...

“No need for apologizes. I have a tendency to throw people off. I am Inquisitor Rook Lavellan, also called Herald of Andraste, a fact I find rather ironic. I'm a mage, but sometimes I use knives instead, just to irritate my opponents. The people prefer I ride hallas, because apparently that's expected of my kind, but I rather like my nuggalope, Peanut. I hate the mage and templar war, accept most people for who they are, unless they try and kill me or my friends, and love food. I'm male and female, so do not be surprised if you hear both male and female pronouns when I'm being talked about, though occasionally the term 'freak' is used instead.”

Tony looked down at his chest. “Huh. We can all be a group of freaks together.” Rook laughed, while Cullen and Cassandra shook their heads, bemused. The other elf watched quietly, just the hint of a smile on his face. 

Natasha sighed. “Oh Tony...”

“I heard about the runes you used,” said the Inquisitor. “I also heard that you were quite brilliant in your Circle despite....complications. Will you work with us?”

Tony opened his mouth, blinked, then shut it. “I...what?”

“And, of course, the Black Widow. Leliana, our spy master, already wishes you to be part of our ranks. It would be an honor if you two would work with us.”

“Rook isn't an Elvhen name...”

“Tony, do you think you could focus a little?” asked Natasha. 

“I'm cold, and you know that I sometimes get distracted. Hi, Solas!”

The other elf was now smiling. “Hello, Anthony.”

“You're still wearing that monstrosity of a tunic? I thought that was just in the Fade, like a night gown or something.”

Cassandra turned to the side a little, and Natasha could tell that she was hiding her laughter. 

“Maker's Breath,” said Cullen. “He sounds like Dorian.”

“Yes, the two would get along quite well, I think,” replied Solas. 

“Yes, we'll join,” Natasha said, figuring at last that there was no hope of Tony actually answering.

“Excellent,” said Rook. “And no, Rook is not Elvhen. It's something I chose for myself. Now, let me see these runes...”

Again, the talk of magic and runes faded into the background. Cullen, shaking his head, made his escape, talking quietly with Cassandra. Natasha watched the group, but also studied Solas. She was no mage, but what Tony had told her earlier made her wonder. 

He looked at her for a moment, a small smile on his face, and he nodded once, before returning to the topic at hand. She shivered. Why, she didn't know. 

What exactly had they gotten themselves into?


	5. A Place to Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misunderstandings arise, Vivienne has a talk with Tony, and a few things are discussed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was surprisingly more painful to me to write than I expected. Snippets of what was said to Tony during his torture is triggered in this section. Please be careful if emotions, such as insecurity and who knows what else, triggers you. Emotional abuse warnings

Natasha gave him a look that clearly stated, “Don't get into trouble,” before making her way to meet someone named Leliana. 

In the corner of the Hall, a small group of individuals were talking. Bruce stood with them, and so did the gorgeous Steven. Anthony rubbed his chest, feeling his heart speeding up just a little. It had been years since he felt anything, and what seemed so easy before felt nearly overwhelming. 

But he never backed out before. 

With a smile, he joined the group. 

“My name's Anthony,” he said, with a small bow, and wink to Steven. Oh, that blush on the man's face...

“I'm new here. I apologize for interrupting.”

“Join the conversation,” said Bruce, softly. 

The others gave their names, and they were all smiling. His heart beat a little faster, his stomach twisting. 

“We were debating Mages and Circles,” said Sharon.

“Debating whether Circles should be reestablished,” said Bruce.

And of course, as careless as always, Tony waved his hand. “Of course they should be reestablished.”

He should have known better. His mouth always got the better of him. 

“How dare you!” snapped another Mage by the names of James, one of his arms missing. “After everything you went through, with that mark on your head, you really think Mages should just be thrown back into those prisons? What are you, a monster?”

~The Mages can barely understand you. Do you really think anyone normal could trust you, Monster?~

Tony took a step back, his eyes widening and mouth opening. He looked at the others, but they appeared perplexed or angry. Steven's eyes narrowed, his lips tight, hands clenched. 

Once, he would have responded. He'd yell, fight, anything, to make his point. But emotions felt new to him, and instead of molten anger, he merely felt the cold of isolation. 

Oh, how stupid. How could he think a simple smile could mean anything special? He always hoped too much of people, and let them crush those tiny dreams.

“I need to go,” he said abruptly, turning around and practically sprinting out the doors. He thought he heard someone call his name, but it didn't matter. 

As his foot touched the grass, a voice called, “Anthony.” A command, and he stopped, before slowly turned. 

She was beautiful, a sculpture of power, calm, and command. He nearly considered flirting with her, but though her eyes were brown, they tore through him like icicles. She walked down the stairs calmly, head held high, and her eyes never leaving his. 

“I find,” he said, somewhat still detached between emotions and body, “that I find myself at a disadvantage, Lady...”

“Madame De Fer, if you must be formal, darling. Vivienne is quite enough.”

Again, no words came out of his mouth. Even in Kirkwall, they knew her name. 

“Please do close your mouth before a fly decides to find a new home. I promise that I don't bite innocent young boys such as yourself.”

His eyes widened and he sputtered. “Innocent?! Me?”

Just the corners of her mouths turned up. “Darling, I assure you that you are still very much a child. Now, would you be so kind as to walk with me? I wish to discuss some things with you.”

Tony's mouth snapped shut, and he decided that following seemed a far better option than sticking his foot in his mouth again. Quietly, she led him to a different portion of Skyhold, filled with potted plants growing various herbs. 

“I heard parts of your rather...unfortunate conversation,” said Vivienne, sitting down as graceful as a cat. 

He winced, and sat opposite her. “I have a tendency to open my mouth before I think.”

“Though perhaps not always the wisest decision, it is sometimes the truer response. To put you at ease, I agree with you. We need the Circles. What I am curious is your full stance on the matter that was rudely interrupted by that disdainful outburst.”

“It's odd, though, right?” he said, doodling imaginary drawings on the table with his fingers to keep occupied. “They gave me the brand, so I should hate the idea. I did hate it. Hated them so much when they took me away from 'Tasha...my sister.”

“It's very easy to dismiss another's ideas as foolish, but very different to sit down and discuss matters with an open mind. All ideas should be considered, not all followed.”

Tony sat back, looking up at her. “You just basically called me young. Why would you want to hear my ideas?”

The hint of a smile returned to her lips. “I've heard about you, and your skills with runes. You may be young, but you aren't stupid, either.”

He tapped the table a few times, his thoughts and emotions moving like the water in a fast moving stream. 

“Perhaps I have pushed you too much. I realize you have been through a lot in a short amount of time...”

“No, please! I really do want to talk!” And did that not sound truly like a young child begging for the comfort of a parent? His face flushed, but he didn't move. Natasha always knew what to say to cheer him up, and this regal woman, so calm in this whirlwind, reminded him of her. She did not move, watching him. 

“The Circles, as they were, is a pile of trash, and most mages know that. But the idea of a place where mages learn how to protect themselves and others is entirely vital. Protection is a necessity, but the restrictions....the shackles placed by the Templar order is an abomination in itself. Of course, to say that the Templar order is completely off kilter would be entirely too simplistic as well, and none of this is simple, except for one thing. Mages need a safe place to learn, a school of their own, but just a school. Not a prison. Not...”

~Monsters like you should be locked up.~

“A place to grow,” he said softly. “A place to love.”

“A place to love,” Vivienne repeated, softly. Her eyes held sympathy, not pity, and empathy. 

“I really do sound like a young, idealistic child, don't I?”

“Of course, darling,” she replied, but not unkindly. “Ideas need to start in such small ways before they are ironed out, and even then problems arise. However, I agree with your idea. Mages need a school, not a prison.”

“Not everyone agrees with that,” replied Tony, thinking of the looks he received earlier.

“I highly doubt everyone will ever fully agree.”

“So there needs to be options for those people.”

Vivienne sat back. “You are one of those people who throws themselves fully into a project once you've started, aren't you?”

Anthony flushed, but smiled. 

“I would like to discuss matters further with you,” said Vivienne. “Perhaps we may debate some of the issues at hand. Also, since you are now part of the Inquisition, I wish to recommend a few tailors. Your clothes, though practical, are atrocious.”

“Trust me. I know.”

Vivienne stood. “I shall send you a few samples, but it seems you have a visitor.”

His eyes widened, and he turned. The warmth became drenched in a bucket of ice water, sprinkling down his back. Steven stood, tense, as he looked between the pair. 

“A child lashes out,” said Vivienne softly. “An adult listens, then decides.” With a curt nod, Vivienne strode past the man, not looking back. 

“I wish to apologize,” said Steven the moment they were relatively alone. 

“All right,” said Tony, crossing his arms. “What for?”

“For making you feel threatened. I don't understand your stance on the matter, but it wasn't right for us to lash out, either.”

“Your boyfriend,” and Tony really did wince just a little at the childishness, “was quite vocal on his displeasure. I don't find it strange for you to stand beside him.”

“Bucky is not my boyfriend,” said Steven, his eyes never wavering.

“Bucky? I thought it was James.”

“Bucky's a nickname he got in the Circle. Close friends call him that. We were in the Circle together, and that's not the point, Anthony.”

“Tony. I prefer Tony.”

“T-Tony?” Steven blinked. 

“What was the point, Steven?”

“Steve, please, and the point was that even if I don't agree with you, we can still talk about these things. I don't understand how after everything that happened you would want the Circles, but what Bucky said was entirely uncalled for.”

Tony shuddered, words of his own torture echoing in his head again. “No...not entirely uncalled for.”

With a sigh, Steve said, “Maybe not entirely, but certainly parts of it. We have no right to judge what anyone else went through, and in this place where everyone's trying so hard to get along, Templars and Mages, humans, elves, Qunari, dwarf....to push each other away would just take us one step closer to more fighting we don't need.”

“You're awfully understanding for a Templar. It's....nice.”

And something he had fallen for before, numerous times...

Steve just looked at him. What was he seeing, in this mage who stood tall, but also shook, and not because of the breeze? 

With a nod, Steve held out his hand. Tony narrowed his eyes, confused. What decision did the other man come to? 

“I don't know what you went through, but I'd like us to be friends? Can we try?” Steve asked. 

“Monsters don't have friends,” said Tony, looking at the hand, even as his shaking hand rose.

“Good thing I don't think you're a monster, then,” said Steve, not wavering.

It could be a trap, he realized. But just once, he wanted to be right, to not make the mistake of trusting. He had Natasha, after all, and maybe Vivienne? 

He grasped the hand, and Steve's other hand rose, gently cradling Tony's hand in his warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vivienne and Natasha are a force to be reckoned with, just so you know. :)


	6. The Avengers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition forms a new group

Tony retreated to the Undercroft, feeling far more comfortable with the sound of the waterfall nearby, and Dagna occasionally giving her input into his current project. He had come up with the ideas before the attack years prior, but never truly had the chance to work upon them before his Tranquility. Desire muted the need to put the ideas into motion, but now...

A hand, not quite slamming, but definitely a bit forceful, placed near his workstation nearly made him drop the heavy boots in his hands. He looked up into the smiling face of Natasha. 

He knew that smile. It was the smile that said “I'm trying very hard to not kill someone.” 

“Hi,” he said quietly, not quite sure why the expression was being directed at him. Dagna, apparently sometimes able to have self-preservation skills despite the need to chatter as much as him, stayed silent. 

“Hi,” Natasha replied. “So tell me, who did it?”

He looked at the boots he worked on, then back at Natasha, a frown on his face. “Did what?”

“Tony, we were going to meet for lunch. Instead, I find you here, working on....something, and I've been standing here, waiting for you to notice...”

Tony looked at Dagna, who shrugged one shoulder. She was like him, and once started on a project, didn't always notice what was going on. And with Tony, when he was that oblivious, that meant he was upset, a fact Natasha was aware of...

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. So who upset you?”

He turned the boot around in his hand, not looking at his sister. 

“James Barnes,” said Dagna. Tony glared at her. 

“James Barnes,” repeated Natasha. 

“It's all fine now, so stop fussing,” said Tony, kicking the dwarf, who kicked him back.

“Family should stick together,” said Dagna, crossing her arms. 

“Thank you, Dagna. Tony, Leliana wants to talk to us, so I want you to eat, and then we're going to the War Room in a half hour.”

She placed a plate beside him with a roll stuffed with meats, an apple, and a small pastry. He looked at her with large eyes.

“Do not make me stuff this food down your throat,” replied Natasha.

“But boots...”

“Anthony!”

With a pout, Tony said, “Yes, ma'am.”

***

Tony still pouted as they walked together to the War Room. He inhaled the food, then returned to his boots, hoping that maybe Natasha changed her mind. She grabbed his ear and pinched, until he relented. He knew the boots could wait, but still...

They were both surprised to meet Steve, apparently walking to the War Room as well.

“Do you know what this meeting is about,” he asked. 

“No,” said Steve.

“Mmm,” said Natasha. Tony translated that to “yes, but I'm not telling.”

Steve held the door for them, just the hint of color in his cheeks when Tony smiled at him. Inside, they were greeted by not just the Spymaster, but Rook, Hawkeye, Bruce, and two other individuals that they didn't recognize.

“So now that we are all present, we may begin,” said Rook, smiling. “I believe most of you know each other.”

Natasha's eyes moved to the two strangers.

“Please excuse our other guests,” said Leliana. “We will introduce them in a bit. First, I wish to outline why we have asked you here.  
“The Inquisition has grown larger over time as deeds of Herald has spread, and so have requests for help. We try our best to respond to as many as possible, but it is impossible for Rook to handle everything, and therefore we will often send out others to solve issues he need not handle. We try to fit the requests to our specialties as best as possible, but it is not always so simple.”

Leliana paused, looking at them.

“So you wish to make a group of people who combines strength, stealth, and diplomacy,” said Bruce. 

“Not just,” said Rook. “There may come a time when the Inquisition is no longer needed. But there will always be people who need help, and their voices aren't always heard. It's true that this group will currently help the Inquisition, just like the Chargers do, but we...I want a group that can survive after, and still help those in need. Thedas will always need heroes.”

“And you want us?” asked Tony. 

“You are all exceptional in your own ways,” said Leliana. “Whether you can work as a team has yet to be seen, but we feel that the potential is there.”

Hawkeye shrugged. “Why not? The boss sent me to keep tabs on this anyway, so I have nothing to lose.”

“I've already said that I would join in the spy network,” said Natasha. 

“Captain?” asked Leliana. 

Steve drummed his hand on the table for a minute, before nodding, once. “All right. I'll do it.”

“Err, are you sure you want me?” asked Tony. “I mean, I'm not really special or anything...”

“We've heard about some of the runes you've made,” said Rook, not looking at his chest. “You are also an offensive mage.”

“In more ways then one,” he mumbled.

“And you'll get your own workshop in addition to the access to the Undercroft.”

“Sold!” 

“Hulk?” asked Leliana. 

“It's Bruce,” said Bruce, Natasha, and Tony together. The three shared a smile. 

“Bruce,” said Leliana, not missing a beat. “I know that you hesitate to fight, but they could at least use a good healer.”

“And we could talk magic and other things,” said Tony.

“And blow us all up,” said Hawkeye. 

“I...suppose I could try?” 

“Excellent! Then let me introduce my agents,” said Leliana. “Nicholas Fury and Phillip Coulson. All reports will go to Fury who will redirect it to me. Coulson will keep an eye on your team, aide in any way possible, and provide any training necessary.”

“Fury? Your name is really Fury?” asked Tony. The man in question merely raised an eyebrow. 

Steve sighed. Natasha put a hand on his knee and squeezed hard. It was her sign to make him stop talking. At least Rook looked amused. 

"It is a pleasure to meet all of you,” said Coulson. “Please, just call me Phil.”

Natasha squeezed Tony's knee again when he opened his mouth. He snapped his mouth shut.

“Now, you need a name,” said Fury, giving Tony a blank look. “We can't just call you 'The Inquisition's special squad.'”

The group looked at each other blankly. 

Hawkeye sighed. “Isn't it obvious? We go around helping people who the Inquisition can't help. Defenders of justice, righters of the wrong, blah blah.”

“To the point, Hawkeye,” snapped Fury.

Hawkeye rolled his eyes, and Tony immediately loved him for it.

“The Avengers, of course.


	7. Captain America

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony have a little talk

Despite the hour, they all went to the Herald's Rest.

“I'll be right back,” said Hawkeye. “I need to go talk to my other boss, not to be confused with my other other boss.”

“So how many bosses does that make?” Tony asked.

“I stopped counting.”

Natasha got the drinks, carrying a tray of the drinks easily. Tony tapped his fingers on the table top, numerous ideas racing through his head, armor and weapons at the forefront. Not for the first time, he thought he should carry paper and ink to write notes. Of course, he'd get distracted and would lose most of it anyway. 

“The Avengers,” said Bruce, softly.

“Seems pretty daunting,” said Hawkeye, plopping down in a chair. 

“The Herald seems to do all right,” said Steve, swirling his ale in the mug.

“The Herald has an army,” replied Natasha. True, the Herald seemed to depart a lot on various missions, but the troops took care of much as well.

“And a glowing mark on his hand. But even without that, I think we'll do all right. We're not exactly defenseless.”

Tony shook his head, trying to clear his mind from his ideas for a moment. He'd get Harritt and Dagna to help out, or at least he hoped they'd help him. 

“You know, we all have nicknames. I think you need one, too, Captain.”

For several seconds, his companions stared at him. Tony shrugged, taking a sip of his ale. 

“Nicknames?” asked Bruce.

“Well, you go by Hulk, and 'Tasha's Black Widow, I've got Iron Man...”

“You do?” asked Hawkeye, bemused.

“Hawkeye's...”

“My actual name is Clint.” 

Again, they all stared, but this time at Clint. The man in question sighed, his ears twitching just a little. “Yes, I'm an elf. My parents were in the alienage, and decided while everyone else picked fancy elfy names, they were going to give me a human name. Hence, Clinton, which I hate.”

“See? Nickname. You need one, too.”

This prompted a discussion on different names, some more ridiculous than others. Steve seemed more amused than anything else, but clearly some of the names earned better responses. Tony threw out a few ridiculous ideas, just to watch the Captain blush profusely, glare on a few occasions, shake his head on one, and laugh on another.

“Where were you born, anyway?” Tony finally asked.

“It was a very small, barely there village, between Honnleath and Redcliffe, destroyed in the last blight, from what I heard. It was called America.”

“Captain America,” said Tony, with finality. The others repeated it, then nodded their approval.

Tony moved his hand, placing it near Steve's shoulder, ready with some witty retort that quickly fled his mind as he felt as if a surge of energy rushed through him. He startled, moving his hand as if stung. Steve's eyes were wide, staring at Tony. 

“Are you okay?” asked Natasha, her eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Tony replied, but continued to watch Steve.

After a pause, Steve said softly, “May I talk to you in my quarters privately, Tony?”

“Well, well, Captain. I didn't know you wanted me in your bed so badly.”

This earned Tony a pleasant blush, fair skin turning a pretty red, but the man's eyes didn't waver from him. Tony gave Natasha a brief glance, and saw that her eyes had narrowed even further, thin as daggers, cold as ice. Clint seemed more amused, but Bruce also seemed a bit concerned. He clearly remembered the less than pleasant talk with James. 

Steve cleared his throat. “I promise, on my mother's grave, that I mean you no harm, and only wish to talk.”

For just a split of a second, Tony nearly said something he would regret, but managed to stop himself in time. His teeth clicked as he shut his mouth, and nodded, once. 

“Call for a runner, and they'll show you where our quarters in the main hall will be. Pick whichever rooms you wish around mine,” said Steve. “Follow me, Anthony.”

Silently, Tony followed. He considered asking questions, but figured that it would be futile. Clearly, Steve wanted to tell him something, but wished for a more private venue. 

“Good day to you, Captain,” said Madame de Fer as they entered the main hall. Steve gave her a bow, his face a bit paler. “My dearest Anthony, it is so good to see you.”

“The same, Lady Vivienne,” replied Tony, grinning. Apparently, Vivienne had talked with Steve before. 

“All is well, I take it?” she asked, focusing on Tony. 

“It's all right. We were just going to have a nice chat, weren't we, Steven?” Tony asked. Steve hummed in response. 

“That's good. I need not remind you what will happen if you harm him, Captain?”

Steve replied, a wry grin on his face, “I believe your lovely description involved a lot of ice, and the Iron Bull with a large hammer, and something with Dagna and explosives, I believe, all after Natasha dealt with me. To be honest, I'm not sure Natasha would let me live.”

Tony stared at the pair in utter shock. He knew Natasha had his back, but in such a short time, to have gained a few new allies...not to mention the team...

“You may be surprised at how creative she can get,” Tony replied, wide-eyed, but smiling.

“Quite. Now, do be good, darlings, and try not to be too loud.”

She left, a wave of her hand, as if she hadn't just given the Captain a thinly veiled threat. Again, apparently, though the first seemed less veiled...

“She's not one to trifle with,” said Steve. “I'm glad she's on our side, or I'd fear for most of the troops.”

Gently, as if the most natural thing in the world, Steve put his hand on Tony's back, leading him the rest of the way to his room. A few of the nobles seemed to whisper. Tony waved at Rook, who appeared disgruntled on his throne, but waved to him as they disappeared down the hallway. 

When they entered the room, Steve moved to the window, pulling the curtains closed. 

“Ah...” Tony managed.

“Relax. I'm not going to molest you,” said Steve, sitting down on the corner of his bed, as he indicated a nearby chair. 

“Well, not that I would mind from someone as handsome as you...”

“You flirt a lot with me,” came the interruption, “but I don't know if you mean it, or it's just a defense mechanism.”

Tony tilted his head to the side. “You realize you are a very lovely man, right?”

“You are as well,” Steve replied, a small smile on his face. “But I am not someone who would want a quick tumble in the sheets. And that's not even why I brought you here. How can you be so distracting?”

“It's a talent. Now, what was it I felt before? I'm guessing that's why you wanted to talk.”

Steve nodded, staring at his hands. “You showed me something deeply personal before, not afraid of what others would say. I'm...not as brave. I'm afraid...I'll have to take my shirt off.”

Tony sat quietly, waiting. The mention of the runes made him nervous. Had someone else done something similar to Steve as well? His heart pounding, Tony watched as carefully, Steve first removed his armor, unstrapping gauntlets, removing the chest plate...it seemed like a long process. His thought wandered just a bit, trying to find ways to make things a bit more efficient, something that offered protection, movement...

Steve took a breath, gave Tony just a bit of a smile, and removed his shirt.

Tony's hands tightened on the chair, and he began to babble. He knew it. Rambling, probably sounding like he was in awe, because in a way, he was. He was kind of right, somewhat. They were runes, of strength, endurance, speed...

In lyrium. On Steve. 

He had always thought there was no other survivors of that particular experiment, just Fenris, who he had the displeasure of meeting a few times. He didn't judge him, knowing the story behind the Lyrium Ghost...

“Tony....Tony breath. You're shaking, and you're white as a ghost. Are you crying?”

“Maker, Steve, you...who...? Maker, lyrium...they...”

Steve pulled him up to stand, lifting him easily as his legs continued to shake, and moved them both to the bed. A part of him couldn't help laugh, at the absurdity of all of this, about how they were indeed in bed together, but basically cuddling. 

“I'm sorry. I should have warned you. They didn't force me to do this. I...I chose...”

Tony stared at him as if the man grew another head. Or maybe lost in the Fade...

The laugh Steve gave was humorless. “I was very sick at the time. Not the healthiest individual anyway, and on top of it, lyrium as a templar...I figured I'd die anyway. Why not give my life to possibly help someone else? Maker, how stupid and idealistic. I didn't know until much later that I wasn't the first and only test subject.”

“And the rest died,” croaked Tony.

“Yes, like the Lyrium Ghost, I was the only success.”

Tony supposed it made sense that Danarius wasn't the only mage out there to try injecting lyrium into flesh. Shifting just a little, his fingers traced a rune of strength on Steve's wrist. The lyrium sang to him, stronger now that he touched it. 

“Who else knows?”

“James and Cullen, I've told personally, recently. Cullen's told the Inquisition, which is probably part of the reason that he recommended me to the team.”

“Did Cullen...was he...did he make you do this?”

“Maker, no. You should have heard the words coming out of his mouth when he found out. He was furious that I put my life on the line like that, said I should have sought a regular mage's help.”

“Cullen doesn't really hate mages anymore, does he?”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “There's rumors that Dorian's his lover.”

“Wait? Dorian? The Tevinter Mage I've heard about? Seriously?”

“I personally don't think that they're lovers yet, but I think they're dancing around each other. I think it says something about Cullen's changed views that he's even considering it.”

“Cullen and a Tevinter Mage...incredible!” Tony paused for a moment to wrap his head around this concept, and promptly became distracted by Steve's lips. 

They looked at each other, dark brown meeting sky blue, and Tony's fingers gently made a path from Steve's wrist, up his arm. He felt the smallest of shivers move through the Captain as his hand moved behind his neck. He could feel the thrum of lyrium there, as well. 

“Are you sure you just want to talk to me? Not to molest me?”

His lips, so close, gently brushed his own, as Steve said, “No.”

Thoughts of projects, of his boots and gauntlets, armor and weapons for the team, that arm for James, that jackass who still needed to apologize, fled as warm lips pressed, gently, against his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I've slacked on this since starting Hikari, but not forgotten!


	8. Made of Iron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the team works on training together as a unit, Tony works on a slightly different project...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block+mood+computer being a pain.....  
> And a short "chapter"

Akwardly, the two separated, both flushed, both unable to quite look at the other. For a few seconds, Tony considered pulling Steve back towards him, but then anxiety washed over him like a flood, his stomach tightening, the sensations of ice down his back...

He froze, not wanting to continue, but not wanting to leave and make Steve believe he wasn't interested.

"Tony?

"Too soon," Tony blurted. He winced a little. "And too blunt. "

"And things have happened in a short amount of time. I'm sorry."

Tony pushed his hair out of the way, and said, softly, "me, too."

And it was over. Tony sighed. Figured he would destroy a moment...

With a wry smile, Steve shook his head. "I still want to know you. To understand everythimg that happened to you. Maybe...eventually..."

Tony waited a moment to see if Steve would continue, but when he didnt, gave a small smile. "Okay. I want that, too." The yawn that followed caught him by surprise

"Goodnight, Tony."

"G'night."

***

"This is by far the most idiotic thing I've seen so far since coming to Skyhold," Harritt grumbled, gently tapping a bucket filled with water. Tony lugged the buckets himself, taking as many precautions as possible. He was relatively sure he wouldn't entirely catch on fire, but better to be safe.

"But you're here," said Tony.

"This is extremely exciting," said Dagna, inspecting the boots, brow furrowed as she tried to find the runes used. Tony hid them on purpose.

"Okay," said Tony, standing up. He took a few tentative steps, feeling the weight of the armor. They weren't the heaviest available, but certainly much more than mage robes. 

"Perhaps you should reconsider?" Harritt asked. 

Tony carefully drew on his magic, heard Compassion agree with Harritt, and ignored them both. 

"On the count of three..."

The two others watched silently, standing to the side. Tony counted, then used his magic to activate the runes...

...Hit the ceiling, then landed on the ground, as he let the magic go.

Harritt sighed, rubbing his temples. Dagna merely stared, her eyes wide, mouth shaped in a silent 'oh.'

"Ow," Tony managed. 

"Was it supposed to do that?" Dagna finally managed to ask. "That was amazing! The force of the runes, the lift, the..."  
Dagna continued to ramble as Tony reconsidered his idea. He could just focus on his other ideas. The nice, ice daggers and projectiles he planned to give his sister, the exploding arrow ideas he thought of while talking to Sera...

"All right," he mumbled, sitting up with a groan. "Round two...."


End file.
